


Femme Fatal

by Lexalicious70



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:47:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7535122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexalicious70/pseuds/Lexalicious70
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lex is sprayed by The Joker’s newest and deadliest bio-gas, he is transformed in ways that deeply affect his relationship with Clark. The bewildered superhero turns to an unlikely ally to help find a cure, but first, the two heroes must learn to work together before both battling The Joker and finding a cure for Clark’s dying partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Femme Fatal

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Hils for Batman guidance, consultation, and for the beta, and to Ferdalump for the great Batman advice! Also, thanks to Mark Hamil for giving us such an awesome version of the Joker. WARNING: This fic deals with gender-swapping, so if that offends you, turn back now. All characters owned by DC comics, no copyright infringement intended; this is just for fun and because I enjoy feeding the weird little people in my head. Feedback is to me what a 100 year-old Glenlivet is to Lex, so please comment if you can. Enjoy, my darlings!

Femme Fatale 

The Joker’s bone-chilling, maniacal laughter echoed through the alleyway as the madman’s capering shadow undulated on the brick wall behind him. The Adam’s apple of the pale, slender throat that he clutched in both hands bobbed, the pulse fluttering desperately as its owner struggled to free himself from the Joker’s powerful grip. 

“Did you honestly think that you were going to get away with trying to double-cross me, Lex?” The man’s foul breath washed over Lex’s face as his fingers dug deeper into the flesh of his throat. “Honestly, I’m hurt!” The Joker’s mock-injured tone suddenly turned serious as the grin turned into a deadly leer. “And when I’m hurt, Lexie-boy, I hurt back.” 

“Don’t . . . know . . . what you’re . . . talking about!” Lex managed to gasp, his feet kicking as the Joker began to slowly lift him off the ground. 

“Then let me refresh your memory!” The Joker shook Lex as he spoke, and Lex grunted as the back of his head struck the alley wall. “You’re secretly partnered with Superman! Yet you still play the villain card to draw the rest of us honest, hard-working crooks into the net! You disappoint me, Lex . . . and what’s further, you disgust me.” Lex turned his head away from the glittering, insane light in the Joker’s eyes, and the madman ran his free hand over Lex’s bare scalp in an almost blatantly personal caress. 

“When Supsey finds what’s left of you, he’ll be able to bury it in an old tuna can.” 

“Joker!” A deep voice boomed through the alleyway and the Joker turned his head to see Superman barreling down on him, his expression set with fury and his big fists clenched. His scarlet cape streamed out behind him like a living thing. “Let him go!”   
“By all means, Superman!” The Joker cackled as he loosened his grip and let Lex fall to a heap at his feet. The young billionaire gasped and groaned as he tried to catch his breath, and the Joker grinned manically. “If it’s a partnership with Superman that you’re after, Lexie old pal, then let me help you bag the big boy in blue!” A fetid greenish-purple gas sprayed from the buttonieer the Joker wore on his lapel, and the cloud enveloped Lex before he could react. Lex gasped and choked, and the Joker tossed an explosive smoke bomb over his shoulder as he beat a hasty retreat down the alley, the smokescreen obscuring his exit. 

“Lex!” Clark shouted, knowing that the effects of the Joker’s laughing gas were swift and deadly. The hero’s heart flooded with relief when no helpless laughter seemed forthcoming from within the greenish cloud, and he drew a deep breath to blow the cloud away with one powerful gust from his lungs. When the smoke cleared, he knelt down next to his fallen partner and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Lex? Lex! Are you all right?” 

“Unh . . .” The slim, lean body shifted in the dirt of the alley and right away, Clark knew something was wrong. Lex’s black wool slacks, usually so well-tailored, now seemed too big all over. His wine-colored pullover also hung on him wrong, seeming too big and too baggy. Clark frowned as one Armani loafer fell from Lex’s foot as he tried to right himself, as if it was two sizes too big. 

“Lex?” Clark asked again, and slipped an arm around Lex to turn him over. As the young man sprawled onto his back, still gasping and coughing, the glow from a nearby streetlight illuminated his face, and Clark fell back onto his heels, his mouth dropping open. 

“Oh, God.” He breathed. “Oh no . . .” Working quickly, Clark unfastened his cape and wrapped Lex in it securely, soothing his twitching partner as he lifted him into his arms. A moment later, Clark rocketed up into the sky and headed south toward the roomy Metropolis apartment he and Lex had shared for the last four years. Since they had left Smallville togetherClark had pursued a career in journalism as he developed his public identity as Superman, and Lex had run the multi-million dollar corporation left to him by his deceased father after the elder Luthor was murdered by a rival’s assassin the year before. Through it all, the two men had remained as close as ever, and eventually decided that their futures would be forged together, physically and otherwise, in Metropolis, with Lex as the keeper of Clark’s secret and his closest confidante, and Clark as Lex’s strength, hope, and reminder of the trust that had been placed in him. Together, the two young men shared a penthouse apartment away from the eye of the public, but woke up together each morning in the bedroom that Lex had designed to face east, where Clark could lay in his lover’s arms and soak up the first and purest of the sun’s early rays. 

Now, as Clark landed on the tiled patio of their apartment and carried Lex through the door, his mind struggled to understand what had happened. The motion-sensitive lights in the bedroom came up as Clark carried his partner over to the bed and laid him down gently. As the light washed over him, Lex’s eyes moved restlessly behind closed lids, and then those lids fluttered open. Clark gently removed his cape from Lex’s body, and now that the fluorescent lighting revealed even more obviously how Lex had been altered, he looked away, bewildered.   
“Clark?” Lex whispered, and then his eyes widened as his own ears processed the register of his voice. He put a hand to his throat to feel the bruises left there by the Joker’s cruel stranglehold, and then frowned as Clark refused to meet his eye. “Clark, look at me.” 

Clark’s eyes closed in grief, and then opened to trail across the room to the giant beveled mirror over the white and grey marble dresser across from them. Lex followed his gaze, and then his eyes widened when he saw the reflection that stared back at him. He moved off the bed, lithely avoiding Clark’s motion to stop him. Lex approached the mirror until he was leaning against the dresser, and stared at the visage before him. 

His reflection was that of a pale and hairless young female. The blue-grey eyes were deep-set and bigger somehow, almost luminescent. Sharp, high cheekbones dominated the regal face, and the throat, while tattooed with bruises, was pale and slender. Lex lifted his hands, which were slimmer and more slight now, to his chest. His pullover was distended by a pair of high, round breasts, the nipples prominent through the thin material. He ran his hands over his waist, thighs and hips, now tapered and curvy, and then swallowed hard as he touched the fly of his black wool slacks, now held up only by the cinched belt. When the touch confirmed that he had been indeed transformed into the opposite gender in every way possible, he turned to Clark with a bewildered expression on his face. 

“Joker,” Clark said quietly. “He sprayed you with some kind of gas, and by the time I got to you, you were . . .um, changed.” 

Lex looked back to the mirror and touched his face, and the woman in the mirror did the same. 

“What has he done to me?” He asked, his voice undeniably feminine, but still holding the smooth, even tones that were Lex’s vocal trademark. Clark slid off the bed and walked over to his altered partner. 

“Don’t worry, Lex. We can find a cure. We’ll find the Joker and we’ll force him to change you back!” 

“How is this even possible? How did he manage this kind of bio-engineering? He’s a madman, but he’s also a common criminal!” Lex turned away from the mirror and then stumbled as the center of gravity of his new form threw him off. He reached out to grab the corner of the dresser and motioned Clark away as his lover took a step toward him. 

“I’m fine, Clark!” He moved away, and then grabbed the waistband of his slacks as the belt in its loops shifted and loosened with his movements and threatened to allow them to slide down Lex’s slim, curved hips. He cursed and yanked them up. Clark made two swift movements and was back into his street clothes before Lex could take another step. Superman was a separate entity for both Lex and for himself, and right now, Lex needed Clark and not the costumed superhero. Lex glanced up at the slight stir of air, his expression angry and haughty and vulnerable all at the same time. Clark tried again, extending his hand. 

“Come back to the bed, Lex. We can find you some other clothes, maybe a robe, and then I can go back out and look for the Joker.” 

“Some other clothes?” This new Lex—she? Clark couldn’t bring himself to think of Lex as she despite his appearance—sneered, the sensual upper lip curling, the scar that Clark knew and loved so well as a sign of Lex’s strength still present, but slightly less visible in the new fullness that had bloomed there. “Like a nice dress, perhaps?” 

“No! I mean . . . I don’t . . .” Clark spread his hands helplessly. “I thought he sprayed you with laughing gas. I didn’t expect—this!” He took another step and his big fingers brushed the hem of the pullover. “Please Lex, I’m sorry, let me help you!” 

Lex bolted at the touch and stumbled into the nearby bathroom. He slammed the door and Clark bit his lower lip in despair as he heard the lock click. 

“Lex! Don’t do this!” 

Silence was his reply, and Clark focused his x-ray vision on the door to see into the room. Lex was curled up in the corner of the big roomy tub, his clothes cast aside, his slender arms hiding the evidence of what the Joker had done to him. Bewildered but relieved that Lex seemingly had no intentions of hurting himself, Clark sat down on the bed and gathered his thoughts. 

That the Joker’s gas had done this there was little doubt; Clark had seen it with his own eyes. But why? What could the Joker possibly gain by turning Lex into a female? Or was there no rhyme or reason to the madman’s actions? And if not, how had he managed this kind of bio-technology? Was the transformation permanent, or could the Joker change Lex back? And even if he could, how could he lure the criminal back to do so? 

“What am I going to do?” Clark muttered, and rubbed his face with both hands. At a loss, Clark simply sat and listened to Lex’s pulse, still strong and steady but very rapid. After nearly an hour of silence, the lock on the bathroom door clicked softly, and the door creaked open. Lex stood there, wrapped in a fluffy white towel. Clark had time to reflect on how small and slender Lex’s feet looked before Lex scowled and pulled the towel tighter around himself. 

“I’m cold. My clothes don’t fit.” 

Clark got slowly to his feet. “We can get you some other—”

“I’m a woman.” 

“I know, Lex—”

“Not Lex. Not anymore. You have to call me another name. Come up with one . . . you’re good at things like that.” 

“You’re still you!”   
“I’m missing several elemental things that made me who I am. Was.” Lex closed his eyes and turned his head away. “Just . . . come up with something. Just until we figure this out.” 

Clark sighed and spread his hands helplessly. “You’re . . .” 

The luminescent eyes opened and bored into him again, and finally Clark relented. 

“You’re . . .” He considered and rejected several different names before settling on one. “Jo.” 

“Jo? I meant for you to pick a woman’s name, Clark.” 

“It is a woman’s name. Short for Josephine. Because your middle name—” 

“Is Joseph,” Lex, now re-christened Jo, finished with him. “All right, that’s acceptable. But I’m still cold.” 

Clark considered the dilemma. His mother’s things just wouldn’t do because Lex had regained his height of nearly six feet, and his mother was only five foot five. Ditto Chloe, and Clark hadn’t seen or spoken to Lana Lang since he’d left Smallville and she’d moved to Paris to attend a fashion school. Besides, Lana would have only demanded an explanation, and Clark didn’t have time for that. That left him one other option, one that made him bone-weary before he even settled Lex back onto the bed, wrapped in a thick comforter, and left before Lex could protest. He might have been altered, but Lex had known Clark well enough by now to know when his partner was preparing to deal with his colleague and close friend, Lois Lane. 

It was the way most other people dealt with facing a firing squad. 

***

“Lex is what?” 

Lois stared at Clark in disbelief, and Clark nodded as he prodded Lois toward her bedroom, reflecting that perhaps a few years ago, before Lois knew him well, she would have headed in this direction with no questions at all. 

“You heard me! I said Lex is a woman. Or at least he’s been turned into one! Lois please, I don’t ask you for favors often, but this is important! Lex and I need your help!” 

“What the hell happened, Smallville? You guys run into some rouge magician with a sick and ironic sense of humor?” 

“It was the Joker.” 

Lois turned, her blue eyes wide. “The Joker! How did he turn Lex into a woman?” 

“Look, it’s a long story, but Lex was working undercover for me, trying to draw out some big-name crooks with the promise of a lot of money if they helped them bring me down. He lured the Joker in, but then one of his cronies bugged Lex and Joker found out he was being doubled crossed. He caught up with Lex and was going to kill him just as I found them. Joker sprayed Lex with some kind of gas from that plastic flower he wears on his lapel. I thought it was his laughing gas but by the time I go to Lex, he was . . . changed. I don’t know if it’s permanent or if he’ll change back, but right now what he really needs are some clothes, and you’re . . . well, you’re tall, and—”

“And you want to raid my closet?” Lois raised a brow. “Even though you and Lex are technically still in—”

“Please don’t make closet jokes right now! And you know why Lex and I haven’t made our relationship public!” 

“I know. Because he’s a public figure and his stocks would plummet if people knew because the whole world is filled with homophobic idiots, blah blah blah, you’ve told me a thousand times, Clark.” 

“Because you never seem to remember!” 

“I don’t forget. I just believe in honesty.” Lois walked into her bedroom and turned on the closet light. “Now let’s see. What were you looking for, exactly? Because all my best gowns are on my no-loan list. If anyone’s going to stain and wrinkle them during a brief indiscretion in the guest bedroom at the governor’s mansion, I want it to be me.” 

“I’m not taking Lex to the governor’s mansion! He’s cold and he needs to get warm! Just pick something simple, Lois!” Clark snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“All right, all right! Don’t get all Man of Steel on me, Smallville! Besides, that scowl doesn’t work if you’re not wearing the outfit. Must be the cape.” Lois pulled out half a dozen sweaters, a selection of skirts, and some shoes from her closet. “Do you know what size shoe Lex wears?” 

“Normally? A men’s eleven, but now those shoes are just falling off him.” 

“Well I wear a nine and a half, see if those fit.” She threw two pairs of pumps, a pair of sandals and a pair of like-new sneakers into the pile. Clark raised a brow at the sneakers, and Lois shrugged. “I bought them when I considered going jogging in the mornings . . . for about two and a half seconds.” She tossed half a dozen tee-shirts of different colors on top of those and then pushed back her hair. “Well, that’s about all I can spare you. I don’t think Lex wants to wear my lingerie.” 

“That should do fine Lois, thanks.” Clark scooped up the clothes and fumbled everything briefly until Lois opened a large shopping bag underneath the pile. Clark dropped everything into the bag and grabbed the handles. 

“Anything else I can do?” Lois asked, and Clark nodded as he made a hasty exit. 

“Yeah . . . don’t tell anyone about this!” 

Lois sighed and shook her head as the door shut. “Don’t worry, Smallville. As usual, your secret is safe with me.” 

***

When Clark returned to the penthouse, his partner was nowhere in sight. The bed where Clark had left him was empty. 

“Lex?” He called, and then set the shopping bag down. Silence. Clark sighed. “Jo?” 

“In the study!” The feminine voice called back instantly, and Clark silently cursed his methodical partner for compartmentalizing this new persona of his so quickly, but then reminded himself that something so traumatizing would have driven a lesser man insane. If the new identity was helping Lex cope, then Clark would indulge him. He went into the big study to see Jo sitting at the computer, the comforter still mostly wrapped around her, as site after site flashed on the screen as fast as she could read them. 

“I brought you some clothes. What are you looking for?” 

“I’m shopping online for Dolce and Gabana because I couldn’t wait for you to get back with what I’m sure is a stunning wardrobe—I’m looking for a way to fix this, Clark!” Jo snapped, and Clark flinched. 

“Sorry L- uh, Jo.” He set the bag on the edge of the desk. “Any luck?” 

“While the Internet offers a wide array of fantasy-based fiction about what’s happened to me, there’s precious little practical information on the subject.” 

“But there must be a way to change you back.” Clark came to stand next to Jo as he peered at the screen. “If the Joker did this to you, he must know the way to undo it!” 

“What do you suggest, Clark? A polite e-mail? Or perhaps a dinner invitation? Who knows, after a few drinks and a game of charades, he might be lucid enough to reveal his secrets!” Jo shoved herself away from the desk and pushed past Clark, who spread his hands out. 

“But—” 

“Give me these damn things,” Jo muttered as she snapped up the bag of clothes and stalked down the hall into the bedroom. The pictures in the hallway rattled and went askew at the sudden vibration, and Clark sat down heavily in the desk chair, swinging it away from the computer as he did so. He tipped the chair back and stared up at the ceiling, wishing for the first time that he had become a scientist or a doctor instead of a journalist. 

If I had that kind of knowledge and training, he thought, I’d be able to help Lex instead of sitting here feeling helpless! 

The computer gave a soft chime as the hour’s top news stories refreshed themselves, and Clark turned the chair around to glance through them. Not much was new; crime in Metropolis was still down thanks to Superman’s efforts, gas and food prices were still on the rise, and the city council was still arguing about what to do with the abandoned twenty story hotel downtown. As Clark continued to scroll through the headlines, one of them caught his eye. He clicked it, and the headline took him to the article. Wayne Industries Acquires GlobalTech Labs, the banner read, and Clark scanned the article. While it was mostly a business deal that only high-rolling investors or business moguls might concern themselves with, Clark knew one elemental detail about the dark-haired, handsome, and brooding man in the photo below the article that they did not. 

He knew that Bruce Wayne was Batman. 

Clark stood and retrieved his cell phone from his pocket.

*Three hours later, Hard Times Diner, Downtown Metropolis*

Clark sipped his coffee, his lips twisting a little at the slightly bitter flavor. It was two a.m., and the twenty-four hour diner was nearly deserted. Outside, a light rain fell, little more than a mist, and it fogged the scratched, steel-edged windows of the diner. Clark watched the abandoned sidewalks for the man he had come here to meet, but the only sounds outside were the light patter of the falling rain, and the hollow drips falling from the building’s gutter as they formed a puddle at the end of the building. 

The waitress, looking as faded as the building itself, came over to Clark’s table and pulled a pencil from her upswept hairdo. “Anything else I can get for you, hon?” She asked with a sigh and a firecracker snap of her Trident, and Clark glanced up at her. 

“Not right now, thanks. I’m just waiting for someone.” 

The small cowbell over the diner door rattled, the noise startling in the near-silence, and the waitress glanced up as a tall, broad-shouldered man in a thick black wool overcoat came striding through the door. Clark looked up and closed his eyes in relief, and the waitress rolled her eyes briefly. 

“Phah! It takes all kinds these days.” She watched as the tall, dark-haired man moved over to the table like an apparition. “Get you something?” She asked the newcomer, who sat down and shook his head. 

“Nothing for me,” he replied in a voice that was low and slightly gravelly. The waitress nodded and left them alone at the corner table, and Bruce Wayne settled his overcoat around himself as he finally met Clark’s eyes. “Where’s Luthor?” He asked. 

“Home. He . . . he took a sedative and finally fell asleep a few hours ago.” Clark picked up a packet of sugar substitute and tore at the edges. “He’s a wreck, Bruce. After he dressed in the clothes Lois gave him and looked in the mirror, he smashed the glass with a fireplace poker before I could stop him. He won’t let me touch him, either.” 

“Of course he won’t. He’s inhabiting a body that’s not his own.” Bruce reached over and took the sugar packet from Clark’s big fingers, carefully wiping away the scattered sugar that had fallen onto the cracked Formica tabletop. “It’s something completely alien to him. Give him his space, Clark. He has to deal with this in his own way until we can find a way to change him back.” 

“Do you think you can? You’ve analyzed the Joker’s chemicals in the past and found cures for them.” 

Bruce frowned. “I have no way of knowing that until you bring Luthor to me and let me see exactly what’s happened to him.” 

“I just told you that he won’t let me touch him! I’m his—” Clark lowered his voice as the waitress glanced over at their table from where she stood at the counter, wiping the faded surface with a spotted blue and white dishcloth. Clark lowered his voice to a hushed whisper. “I’m his partner, and he’s treating me like I’m a stranger! How am I supposed to convince him to let you examine him?” 

“Unless he wants to live as a woman the rest of his life, he doesn’t have a choice, and I think he’ll realize that.” Bruce stood, his overcoat swirling around his ankles. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a card, which he handed to Clark. “Bring Luthor to me at this address later today. I don’t care how you coerce him . . . hogtie him if you have to. Joker’s chemicals are highly unpredictable, and the sooner I can run some tests on him, the better.” 

“Her,” Clark muttered, and Bruce’s dark brows drew inward. 

“Her what?” 

“She . . . her name is Jo. Lex made me choose a name for her. He said he couldn’t stand to hear his own name while so much of what made him Lex has been altered.” 

Bruce nodded. “All right. Bring Jo to me in the morning, Clark.” Bruce rose, turned, and was gone in a flutter of moist wool. Clark laid five singles on the table—three for the three cups of coffee he’d drunk and two for a tip—and walked out into the mist a moment later. 

***

When Clark returned to the penthouse, he found Jo curled up tightly on Lex’s side of the custom-made mattress of their big bed, her knees tucked almost to her chest, the duvet shoved down toward the end of the bed. As Clark got closer, he realized that she was wearing nothing but one of his plain white tees. It reached nearly to her knees, and she was wrapped up in it as if it were a blanket. The soft light from the Tiffany lamp in the corner cast a muted glow over Jo’s slender ivory arms. Clark slipped off his glasses, set them on his nightstand, and began to undress. He stripped down to his boxers and then climbed into bed. The duvet slid down a bit, and Clark leaned over to pull it up over them both. Jo moaned and twitched as the covers touched her, and Clark soothed her with a whisper. 

“It’s okay, Jo. Shhh,” he murmured, and then rolled over onto his back as Jo quieted again. As the night wore on and the first purplish-grey signs of pre-dawn began to lighten the bedroom windows, Clark laid awake and turned Bruce’s words over in his mind. If the Joker’s chemicals were so unpredictable, would Lex change again? And if he did, into what? Clark squeezed his eyes shut against an image of Lex’s flesh running from his bones as he mutated into a shrieking mass of blood and tumors. As if seeing the same image, Jo suddenly cried out in her sleep, a brief, frightened yell, before she sat up in the bed, her legs still drawn to her chest. Her breasts heaved beneath Clark’s tee-shirt, and Clark reached out carefully to touch her shoulder. 

“Jo? Hey . . .” He whispered, and Jo jerked away from the touch as if Clark’s fingertips were heated. Clark pulled his hand back and Jo clutched the duvet to her chest, hiding nipples that had gone taut and sharp with fright. 

“You were dreaming,” Clark said, and Jo nodded. 

“Yes, but I’m fine now.” Jo slipped out of the bed, and Clark swallowed a sudden surge of arousal as the white tee rode up to give a teasing view of Jo’s bare ass before she tugged it down again while heading to the bathroom. The toilet flushed, the sink ran, and then Jo reappeared in the doorway. She crossed the room and looked out one of the big windows that faced east. 

“I think I have a possible solution to all of this, but you have to trust me,” Clark told her. Jo’s lean shoulders slumped slightly. 

“You know that I do, Clark.” 

“Then please come over here to me?” Clark held out his right hand. Jo looked at him over her shoulder, and then turned. The early light coming in through the window outlined her slim and curvaceous form through the thin tee, and Clark struggled with his body as it warmed and piqued. Jo saw the blush that heated Clark’s face and neck and froze where she stood, one slender foot extended, the other taking the body’s weight on the arch of her foot on the hardwood floor, the flash of her pulse at the base of her ivory throat quickening. 

“You’re aroused,” she said. “I can see it.” 

“You said you trusted me. I can’t help my body’s reactions. Despite everything that’s happened, it knows that it’s still you in there. Please?” Clark kept his hand extended. “We need to talk about what’s going to happen today.” 

“You won’t touch me?”   
“Not if you don’t want me to.” Clark dropped his hand. After a moment, Jo approached him and sat down on the bed, out of arm’s reach. 

“So, what’s this idea of yours?” 

“While you were sleeping, I went out and I met with someone who I know can help us, who’s dealt with the Joker’s chemicals before. He said if you’re willing to let him examine you and run some tests, maybe he can change you back.” 

Jo’s jaw clenched. “Tests?” 

Clark nodded. “Tests that might reveal how to reverse this.” 

“Who is it?” Softly. 

“Bruce,” Clark replied, and Jo turned her head. 

“Bruce Wayne? Clark, are you out of your mind? He’s madder than the Joker! I know; I went to school with him! Do you have any idea what seeing his parents murdered did to him?” 

Clark nodded. “I’ve worked with him. And yes, he’s a little intense, but—”

“Intense! He lives in a cavernous mansion with a real cavern underground, a place full of rabid bats!” 

“Well yeah, but—” 

“His only companion is an eighty year old man who used to change his diapers!” 

“I know—” 

“His idea of working with someone is glancing at his own reflection in the rearview mirror of the Bat-car before he gets out!” 

“Maybe that’s true, but—” 

“Forget it, Clark!” Jo stood and marched to the other side of the room, her color high, her lips pursed. Clark’s eyes narrowed slightly and he rose to his full height. He approached Jo, whose angry, stubborn expression melted into uncertainty as Clark strode over to her. She reached one hand back to steady herself on the dresser and Clark sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. You know that! But this is important! No matter what you think of Bruce, he’s a scientist and he’s cracked the Joker’s codes before! Do you want to put your trust in him, or live as a woman for the rest of your life?” 

Jo’s jaw clenched again and her nostrils flared. “You’ll be there? While he does these tests?”   
Clark nodded. “Of course. I wouldn’t let you go through this alone.” Clark stepped forward to embrace her, but Jo slipped away out of his reach. 

“Quit running from me, Jo.” 

“I’m not running.” Jo picked through her meager selection of clothing, her nose wrinkling in displeasure before she picked out a pair of blue jeans and a simple soft blue pullover. 

“Then why won’t you let me touch you?” Clark asked softly. Jo turned, the bundle of clothes held closely to her chest. 

“Do you have any idea what this is like for me? To have this body? To have mine taken from me and made into . . . this?” She stepped into the sneakers Lois had given them. “Why would you even want to touch me? I’ve been mutated!” 

Clark dressed in fresh clothes and took his hairbrush into the bathroom to comb his hair. The shattered mirror in the bedroom had been taken away, but it had yet to be replaced. As he tamed his dark curls into place, Jo fumed behind him, her color still high, her arms tightly folded over her breasts. 

“Well?” 

“You’ve been changed, yes. But that doesn’t change the way I feel about you.” Clark set the brush down and brushed his teeth. Once finished, he flicked the lights off. “Come on. Bruce says the sooner we do this, the better.” 

***

The Bat Cave, four hours later 

Bruce glanced up at the MRI scan of Jo’s body as he worked at the central computer that curved around one side of the cave. Other images, some of Jo’s brain, muscular structure and central nervous system glowed on the other screens as Bruce keyed in chemical formulas and mathematical queries. Nearby, Jo lay quiet on a padded metal table, a crisp white sheet covering her nude body up to her breasts. Clark stood next to her, watching information scroll across the screen as Bruce typed feverishly. The printer spit a paper out to Bruce’s right a moment later, and he glanced at it before rising and going to a nearby drawer, where he withdrew a vial, a length of rubber tubing, and a hypodermic needle. Jo’s muscles tensed as he approached. 

“Hold out your left arm,” Bruce said as he set the items on a small metal pan that sat atop a rolling cart. 

“What for?” Jo asked, and Bruce pulled on a pair of thin latex gloves. 

“I need a blood sample in order to analyze the chemicals in your blood.” 

“I don’t like needles.” Jo scowled. 

“What do you dislike more? Needles, or mutating into something much more undesirable than the woman you are now in the next twenty-four hours?” 

Clark frowned. “Bruce, that’s—”

“You were an arrogant ass when we were kids, and you’re still an arrogant ass now, Bruce!” Jo held out her arm stiffly, and Bruce tied the rubber tubing just above her inner elbow. 

“Likewise.” 

“Try and relax,” Clark told her. Bruce tapped the bluish vein that rose against Jo’s pale skin and then picked up the needle. Jo gave a soft groan and turned her face away. Clark reached out and touched her shoulder, and the smooth skin there shuddered. “It’s okay . . . hang on, it’ll be quick.” 

Jo gritted her teeth as the vial attached to the end of the needle filled with blood, and her face went milk-white. Finally, Bruce released the tubing and pressed a small round bandage to the hole. Jo opened her eyes and glared. 

“Damn you, that hurt!” 

“You came to me, remember? So suck it up, Luthor.” 

Jo sat up and clutched the sheet to her chest as Bruce took the blood over to another piece of equipment. 

“I only agreed to this because Clark said it was the only way!” 

“It may very well be,” Bruce replied as he turned back to the pair. “So before we run out of time, I suggest you be a bit more cooperative.” Bruce walked back over to the table and reached underneath it to slide out two long black poles that ended in padded cups and were attached to the table by bolts on either side. He swung the poles apart and then donned fresh gloves. 

“Put your heels in the cups, bend your knees, and bring your buttocks to the edge of the table.” 

Jo eyed the cups. “For what?” 

“I need a pap smear.” 

A jagged laugh escaped the bald woman. “Oh, I don’t think so.” 

“Would you rather I strap your hands and waist to the table and take it that way? Because the results will be the same, only much more humiliating.” 

“And you think you doing . . . touching . . . won’t be humiliating?” 

“Women have pap smears and breast exams for their health, Lex. This isn’t a date.” 

“My name is Jo!” She swung her feet off the table, and Bruce put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Your name is Lex, and in there somewhere is your male body, which I can help you get back if you’ll do as I say instead of being an impossible, pigheaded bitch.”

Clark’s eyes widened at the insult and in tandem, Jo’s eyes narrowed. Her left hand swung, but Clark was faster. He caught her wrist before her open hand could strike Bruce’s face. The big man didn’t even flinch. 

“Nice catch,” he intoned, and pushed Jo flat. Jo turned her head and tried to bite him, but Bruce moved away. He grasped her ankles and swung her legs back up onto the table. “Help me, Clark. Hold her down. I don’t want to bind her.” 

“Enough of this! Enough, I said! Clark, don’t you dare touch me!” Jo screamed, and Clark flinched. 

“Bruce, maybe . . .”

“We don’t have a choice. You know it as well as I do, Clark. It’s necessary for the chemical analysis. The tissue there is alien, molded by a chemical reaction that I have to study if I’m going to reverse this!” 

“I can’t hurt her!” Clark answered, his big hands level with his chest, palms out. Jo tried to rise again and Bruce cursed loudly. As Clark backed off a few steps, Bruce picked up another needle from the table and reached out faster than Clark ever would have expected a human to move. His big hand clamped firmly around Jo’s wrist, and pulled her arm stiff. Jo turned her head, and Bruce plunged the needle into her inner elbow, just above where he’d taken the blood sample. Jo stared up at him, her eyes registering a kind of stunned disbelief before the fire in them went out and she went limp. Bruce pulled the needle out and slipped an arm around her shoulders. She moaned, and Bruce eased her back onto the table. 

“Sorry, Lex. You gave me little choice.” 

“Jo?” Clark put a hand on the woman’s slender shoulder, but the muscles had gone slack. He looked up at Bruce, who had already quickly and efficiently taken the sample and was back at his machines. “You didn’t have to do that! I could have talked her into it if you had given me some time!” He reached forward and gently pulled Jo’s heels from the cups and laid her legs flat on the table again. 

“That’s what you don’t understand, Clark. There is no time.” Bruce made some more calculations. 

“You don’t know that! You don’t know what the chemicals did yet!” Clark argued, and Bruce glanced up. 

“Do you want Lex to stay this way? Maybe you’re happier with him in this body. Maybe you’ve considered that with him as a woman, people might accept your relationship with Jo much easier than they ever would have with Lex. After all, you have to hide that all time.” 

“We don’t hide anything! We . . . just can’t tell anyone. Not everyone in this world is tolerant, Bruce!” 

“But they’d be tolerant of Jo, wouldn’t they. You could buy her a nice wig . . . something reddish, maybe. Tell people Lex is dead, start your lives over.” Bruce wrote some figures down, ignoring the way Clark’s massive fists clenched. 

“I came to you to see if you could help! If I wanted Lex to stay this way, I wouldn’t be here!” 

“Exactly.” Bruce fed some information into the computer. “So that means when I tell you we don’t have much time, you have to listen to me and do exactly as I say. I drugged Lex because there’s no time for gentleness, Clark. And believe me—” Bruce held up a hand as Clark opened his mouth to protest. “I know all about why Lex is afraid of needles, doctors, and tests. His father was very, very interested in how the meteor shower he was trapped in when he was nine affected his mind and body. And then of course there were the eyebrow and eyelash implants, which I imagine were agonizing for a boy of nine.” Bruce glanced down at the unconscious woman. “I didn’t want to hurt her, Clark. But we have to move swiftly.” 

Clark shook his head. “That doesn’t mean you have to traumatize her any more than she already has been, damn it! You don’t understand what she’s going through! We have to make time to consider her because otherwise—”

“No.” 

“What?” Clark rounded the table and stalked over to the computer. “What do you mean, no? You stubborn son of a bitch! She’s—”

“Dying,” Bruce cut in, and shoved a readout into Clark’s hands. “According to this, the cells that formed the female skin and tissue will continue to mutate, as I predicted. It might have happened already, if not for Lex’s healing ability. But that’s only slowing the process, Clark. The chemical cells will start attacking the healthy cells left in Lex’s body very soon. Eventually, it’ll cause a massive circulatory collapse, his lungs will fail, and he’ll die of either cardiac arrest, or of respiratory failure.” 

“No.” Clark scanned the paper. “No, you must have made a mistake. This is wrong!” 

“It’s not wrong.” Bruce’s bright blue eyes stared into Clark’s green ones, keeping nothing secret. 

Clark shook his head slowly, and then slammed the paper down on the computer console as he ran up the stairs. His voice echoed back over his shoulder. 

“I’m going to find the Joker!” 

“Clark! Wait!” Bruce pushed his dark hair back with both hands. “Damn it!” He chased Clark up the stairs and hoped the younger man didn’t decide to kick into super-speed and leave him in the dust before he had the chance to reason with him. 

Twenty minutes later, Jo moaned and stirred. She struggled to sit up before her eyes were even fully open. She looked around blearily. 

“Clark?” She called weakly, and swung her feet off the table. “Bruce?” Her voice echoed through the cavernous place and she glanced up at the shadowy forms that hung like shapeless blobs of ink from the ceiling. She shuddered and wrapped the sheet tightly around her. Thanks to the healing abilities the meteors had given Lex, the drug that Bruce had administered was already wearing off. Jo paced the cave slowly, and then walked over to the computer console. Her eyes scanned the images still present on the screens there. The paper abandoned on the console caught her attention and she picked it up. Upon examining it, Jo saw the results of Bruce’s tests were clear, and left little room for argument. Jo’s eyes closed briefly, and then she laid the paper down. As she went about gathering her clothes and dressing, Bruce’s voice drifted down from the top of the stairs. 

“You can’t go alone. You have to wait for me.” 

Clark’s voice, clipped, replied, “You just got done telling me how we didn’t have time to wait! Whatever you can come up with will take too long, and the Joker is the only one who knows how to reverse this otherwise!” 

“That doesn’t mean you can run off to face him on your own, Clark. You don’t know him like I do.” 

“I know enough!” 

“Don’t be a fool! What good will you be to Lex if you charge into this before you think, and get yourself killed?” 

“I’m invulnerable, Bruce! But the Joker isn’t, and he’s going to tell me what I need to know, or I’m going to wring it out of him with my bare hands!” 

The voices faded a bit as Clark and Bruce moved their argument of range, and Jo crept up the stairs to the main part of the house. In Bruce’s study, she caught a glimpse of each man’s profile as they continued to argue about who knew the Joker better. Jo slipped past the doorway and down the hall. There were sounds in the lobby near the front door, and Jo knew that Bruce’s manservant, Alfred, was vigilant about confronting people who came and went, depending on Bruce’s instructions. After a quick glance to confirm she was on the first floor of the mansion, Jo boosted herself out a window from the big sitting room to her left. She stumbled upon hitting the ground. 

“Come on. Get it together . . . it’s just the drug, you can do this,” she muttered to herself, and moved across the lawn. Moments later she fought her way through some hedges and was hurrying down the road, her thumb cocked out, hoping to hitch a ride back to Metropolis, and to the Joker. 

***

“I’m terribly sorry, Master Bruce. I was dusting the chandelier in the lobby where I was sure I’d be able to see anyone come and go. The young lady must have slipped out another way.” The elderly butler wrung his polishing cloth in his liver-spotted hands as he spoke. 

“It’s all right, Alfred. That young lady has an IQ close to two hundred, and is damn sneaky to boot.” Bruce turned to Clark, who folded his arms over his chest. 

“You said the drug would keep her under for at least four hours!” 

“I suppose I should have taken the healing abilities into account when I made that calculation. But even so, you wouldn’t let me strap her down,” Bruce replied, and Clark snorted. 

“It’s a good thing you weren’t performing surgery on her!” 

“Are we going to stand here and blame each other about who allowed her to leave, or are we going to find her?” 

“We’ve been up here for over two hours. That’s plenty of time for a woman of Jo’s intellect to find a way to get back to Metropolis.” 

“We have to find her quickly,” Bruce said as he glanced at his black and silver multi-function watch. “She doesn’t have much time left.” 

***

Downtown Metropolis near the south side of the bay smelled like sun-dried seaweed, diesel oil, and stagnant water. The north side of the bay boasted high-rise condos and, nestled in between them, the Metropolis Yacht and Country Club, but here, at the south side, a mix of industry and indigents had turned the docks into a grey misery where few of the city’s citizens dared to tread.   
It was the last place one would expect to find a woman wandering alone; especially a woman who walked so carefully, trying to mask that she was weak, easy prey. 

Jo coughed lightly into her fist and shivered. The blue pullover did little to ease the chills she had begun to feel over the last hour, and she knew that the trembling sensation in her legs and thighs had little to do with fear. What Bruce’s medical results had indicated had begun. Her own body was a time bomb, and in less than a few hours, it would explode from within in a ruin of failed organs and blood that would turn to slush in her veins. 

And in the meantime, she thought, those two fools are back in Gotham, arguing over a future I don’t even have. 

She coughed again and trudged on, clasping her arms across her chest to ward off more chills. She knew from experience that many of the city’s thugs hung out at the south-side docks, and that perhaps she could persuade one of them to lead her to the Joker. She didn’t have to wait long; a big man with hairy, orangutan arms and a neck scrolled with tattoos stepped out from behind one of the storage sheds that lined the docks. A dirty orange wool cap covered his head. Grey, scraggly hair hung down from underneath it like dusty cobwebs. He grinned at her with teeth that were brown with tobacco and neglect. 

“You lost, sugar?” 

“I’m looking for someone, and it would be extremely profitable for you if you could tell me where to find him.” 

The man approached her. “You don’t need no other man. I’m here, and I’ll give you just what you need. Ayuh . . . give it to you good.” 

Jo chuckled softly and rubbed the bridge of her nose with two fingers. “Look . . . I’m sure under other circumstances, I’d probably be terrified by your implication but really . . . I just don’t have time to play. I have a great deal of money, and I need to find the Joker.” 

“Show me your tits, sugar, and maybe I’ll tell you.” The man’s huge manacle of a hand clamped over Jo’s right wrist and pulled her bodily into the thug’s grasp. His other hand quested up her shirt, and Jo fought nausea that had little to do with her terminal condition. 

“Get your hands off me!” She struggled in his grip, and the big man laughed as she punched at his arms. The hand squeezing her breasts then dipped into her jeans, and Jo bit back a scream as she continued to struggle. 

“Get your hands off my chum, chum!” A jovial voice cut the air, a voice that had a deep undercurrent of madness to it. Jo looked up over the big man’s shoulder to see the Joker standing behind them. The thug barely had time to register the villain’s presence before a thin, gleaming spike shot out from a plastic green daisy pinned to his coat. It pierced the man’s neck like a roasting fork carving through a turkey, and then retracted. The Joker took Jo’s hand as the thug fell to the ground, his life bleeding away through the hole in his neck. “Now that’s odd!” The Joker capered and glanced down at the daisy. “It usually blooms in the early mornings! Oh well!” He gave his mad giggle and swung Jo around briefly by her hands, and she tried to struggle away. 

“Let go!” 

“I wish I could, Lexie old kid, but see, I knew you’d come looking for me. It’s all part of my plan.” 

“I don’t care about your plan! I want the antidote! Change me back, damn you!” 

“What did Supsie think of the new you? Did something in his tights turn to steel?” 

Jo flushed and tried to slap the criminal, but he grabbed her hand as the smile bled from his features. “Ah ah . . . that’s not very ladylike!” He pulled her close until they were nearly nose to nose. “I knew you’d come looking for me. I knew you’d figure it out . . . and that once you did and came looking for me on your own, Superman would be right behind you. And this time, I’m ready for him.” 

The blood drained from Jo’s face. “No. I won’t let you use me as bait!” 

“Chum. If I redden Supsie’s waters with your blood, he’ll come racing to save you. And when he does, it’s lights out for the Man of Steel.” The Joker pulled a thin valise from his coat and flicked it open. Inside, a hypodermic needle glowed green. “If you think my chemicals turned you inside out, Lex, just wait until you see what this does to your super-lover!” 

“Leave him out of this! I’ll pay you whatever you want! Millions!” Jo bargained, and the Joker pulled a pistol from his trousers. 

“I don’t want money, kiddo. I want to see Superman’s face when you turn to jelly. After that, he’s going to beg for me to destroy him!” 

He struck Jo on the base of her skull with the butt of the gun, and she went limp in his arms. The Joker grinned. 

“It’s play time.” 

***

The elongated shadow of a tall figure clad in black swooped over the rooftops of Metropolis, melding with another shadow that moved with the graceful fluidity of an airborne creature. A crescent moon was rising in the distance, a thin whitish blue smile in the night that seemed to mock the two figures as they hurried along. 

“Why didn’t you tell me and Alfred that you’d injected Jo with a homing device when you drugged her earlier?” Clark, in his Superman costume, turned his head to look at Bruce, whose face was mostly covered with the cowl of his Batman costume. Only the strong chin and grim mouth was visible. 

“Because I needed to give myself time.” 

“Time for what? You’ve been telling me all day that there’s no time for anything!” 

“Why else would I have kept you upstairs all that time?” 

Clark’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, Bruce?” 

“Clark, I’m a scientist and a detective. Did you honestly think I didn’t take Lex’s healing abilities into account when I gave him that drug?” 

Clark came to a halt on the roof of a high-rise apartment building, his boot heels thudding down on the concrete. “What are you getting at? Are you telling me that you planned on Jo escaping?” 

“Escaping, and running right back here. I could tell by the way you were acting in the cave that you’d never let me use her as bait to draw out the Joker. I knew that if I gave Lex a way out, he’d bolt and come looking for the Joker on his own. It’s the way he’s always done things. He never waits for anyone to solve his problems for him.” 

Clark shook his head slowly. “I don’t believe you. I came to you for help, and you let Jo leave our protection, knowing that she’s dying?” 

“Think carefully about this, Clark. The Joker is mad, but he’s not foolish. He did this to Lex knowing full well what would eventually happen, and he also knows about the two of you. While he does sometimes kill indiscriminately, that wasn’t his intent this time. He knew that eventually, Lex would return to bribe him for a cure, and when he did, you wouldn’t be far behind. Yes, I let Lex leave knowing that he’s dying, but I also knew this was the fastest way to get to the Joker. You or I could never have found him in time if I had forced Lex to stay in the cave.” 

Clark fists loosened slowly. “So you think I’m being set up.” 

“Knowing the Joker, I’m sure of it.” Bruce looked down at the mini-GPS tracker in his gloved hand. 

“He’s got her at the abandoned hotel. On the roof.” 

Clark took flight and headed west toward the hotel with Batman swinging close behind. In the distance, thunderheads lit up from the inside and moved closer to the city. 

On the roof of the abandoned Marquee Hotel, the Joker shrieked laughter and capered around his victim as lightning lit up the wild sheen in his eyes. Jo was lashed tightly upside down to a discarded metal bed frame, spread-eagled and nude. From the empty flagpole nearby, a small bottle of reddish-green liquid chattered in the rising wind as it dangled from a thin metal clamp over the sidewalk twenty stories down. Jo watched the Joker dance, the gleeful form blurred and distorted. He turned toward her again, and Jo tried to turn her head. The Joker grabbed her chin and looked into her eyes. “Your flyboy should be here any minute. I do hope he hurries. After all, you’ve only got about thirty minutes left to live. It’s a pity, too . . . with a little hair, you’d make a fine catch! I’m sure you regret pushing him away now, knowing what you know. Poor Lex . . . you’re going to die in a virgin body. Unless of course . . .” The Joker’s gloved hands spread out over Jo’s breasts and then toyed with her pinkish-brown nipples. Her hands twitched. 

“No . . . no . . .”

“Oh come on! What’s a little fondle between old friends?” 

Fingers dipped between her spread legs and Jo bit back a gasp. Her limbs had gone numb and useless twenty minutes ago, and now that same numbness was creeping into her mind. 

Clark . . . she thought, using the last of her facilities to keep the name from passing through her lips. While Jo had no problem dying for Clark, she certainly had no intentions of failing him while she did so. Thunder rolled out, closer than before, and then the sound took the shape of words, booming out over the roll like an angry pagan god roaring down from his throne at a quaking mortal. 

“Get your filthy damned hands off her!” 

The Joker looked up to see Superman barreling down on him, but then frowned as he caught a glimpse of the dark figure behind him. “Batman! That’s not fair! I didn’t bring a playmate!” He pulled the valise from his coat as he ducked the Superhero’s grasp. “Careful, Superman! See that little bottle?” The Joker pointed at the bottle suspended by the small metal manacle from the flagpole. “It’s the antidote . . . and that’s all there is. So if it falls, your bald bombshell turns to mush!” He held up the remote that controlled the manacle. “I push the button, and down it goes.” His terrible smile stretched widely. “Now come to me, Superman.” 

“No . . . no . . . get out of here . . . he’ll kill . . . you,” Jo moaned, and Superman landed lightly in front of the Joker. 

“Give Lex the antidote, and then I’ll submit to whatever sick game you have planned!” 

“No!” Jo moaned again, and the Joker scowled at her. 

“Women! Always butting in to a man’s business, eh Supsie?” The Joker withdrew the glowing green needle from its case, and Superman grit his teeth as his muscles bunched and cramped, and his stomach began to churn with nausea. The Joker turned to Batman, who stood on the ledge of the roof to his left. “Don’t move, Bats! You can’t get to them both, and you know it!” 

“Antidote . . . hurry. . . she’ll die,” Superman gasped, his eyes flicking to Bruce, but the Batman’s eyes were unreadable white opaque slits as he crouched there, still as a rooftop statue. Jo coughed up a fine spray of blood as her breathing began to quicken and hitch. Clark gritted his teeth. 

Damn you, Bruce, help her! He thought, and looked up at the glowing green needle in the Joker’s hand, illuminated by lightning. A stiff breeze came up, snapping Clark’s cape out behind him. The Joker reached out and forced him to both knees, the needle in one hand and the remote in the other. A mad giggle rose from his throat. 

“Now . . . bow down.” 

Clark closed his eyes and began to bow down when a metallic whine cut the air. The Joker yelled out in pain as a bat-a-rang struck the hand that held the needle, and the glowing green thing spun up into the sky and over the edge of the roof, where it vanished into the night. The Joker turn on Batman with a furious sneer, and his thumb hit the release button on the remote before Clark could recover. 

“No!” Clark cried as the manacle released the bottle of antidote and it went plummeting down after the needle. The skies opened up all at once as Batman launched another Bat-a-rang. It hit the antidote bottle and sent it spiraling upwards just as Clark launched himself at it. The bottle struck Clark’s chest and shattered, and the Joker shrieked laughter at the sight. 

“Ooops! Butterfingers!” The laughing countenance then became a death mask as the Joker pulled a curved blade from his jacket and turned on Jo. “Batman may have saved your lover, hot-lips, but your time is up!” 

“Lex!” Clark turned in midair and barreled down on the Joker as the dagger sliced in a wicked arc toward Jo’s naked chest. In that moment, Jo’s eyes locked with Clark’s, and as time slowed to a crawl in Clark’s super-speed perspective, Jo’s blood-frothed lips formed silent words. 

Love you, Clark. 

“No! Lex! Hang on, hang on!” Rain plastered Clark’s dark curls to his head as he dove on top of the metal bed frame, letting the edges take his weight. The metal there buckled and warped as his fists curled around it, and the front of his uniform pressed up against Jo’s dying body. The Joker’s knife struck the unyielding wall of Clark’s back, and from the heavens, a bolt of lightning sizzled down and struck the frame. Bluish-white arcs of electric contact danced around the three figures, and the Joker was thrown backwards, over the edge of the roof. He screamed as he fell, and then one of Batman’s cables wrapped around his arms and chest to stop his fall. He hung there, moaning, his clothes blackened, as Batman secured the other end to the flagpole. Once Bruce was sure the Joker wasn’t going anywhere but fifteen stories down if he tried to escape, he ran over to where Clark lay motionless on top of the bed frame, his cape still smoldering. 

“Superman!” Bruce called, mindful not to speak his friend’s real name. “Are you all right?” He grasped one of Clark’s broad shoulders with his gauntlet glove, strong enough to withstand any electric shock, and carefully turned his friend over. Clark sprawled onto the concrete, stunned, his face wet with rain. Bruce knelt next to him. 

“Superman,” he said loudly and firmly. “Wake up! Come on, snap out of it!” 

Clark’s eyelids fluttered open and he groaned softly before recollection filled his green eyes, and he sat upright all at once. 

“Lex!” He gasped, and Bruce grabbed his shoulder. 

“No. Don’t look. It’s too late for—” 

Clark shoved Bruce backwards, his hands clenching into fists. 

“I told you to get the antidote! To save Lex! Instead, you saved me and now it’s too late!” Clark pulled Bruce up and off his feet. Tears and rain ran down his face. “What the hell am I supposed to live for now that you’ve killed Lex?” 

“For . . . the love of . . . God. Are you . . . two . . . still arguing?” 

The weak voice that spoke from behind them froze Clark for nearly ten seconds before he set Bruce down and turned around. Lex was looking up at them through the rain. His nude body was no longer curvaceous and feminine, but lean and muscular and most definitely male once more. Clark’s mouth dropped open as he stared, and Lex cleared his throat. 

“I understand your disbelief, but if you don’t mind, I’d really appreciate you getting me out of this thing.” 

Clark blinked and then nodded as he crouched down next to the bed frame. 

“Of course, yeah, sorry!” Clark crushed the manacles that bound Lex’s wrists and ankles, and then wrapped an arm around his waist as he helped him down from his inverted position. Lex shivered, and Clark wrapped his partner in his cape once again. Bruce stood over them. 

“Are you all right?” He asked, and Lex nodded. He looked down at his chest, where some of the purplish-pink solution was melting in the rain. Some of it was similarly smeared across the front of Clark’s uniform, and Bruce nodded. 

“The trace elements of the antidote must have been triggered into a chemical reaction by the lightning strike.” 

“And the Joker?” Lex asked. Bruce motioned to the cable that hung suspended from the flag pole. 

“I’ll make sure he gets back to Arkham where he belongs.” 

Clark helped Lex to his feet and then looked over at Bruce. 

“What I said before. I’m—”

“Don’t worry about it. Get him home and in front of a warm fire. I’ve got a delivery to make back in Gotham.” The dark figure was gone a moment later off the rooftop, and then vanished into the night. 

“He’s a man of precious few words, isn’t he,” Lex chuckled weakly, and Clark lifted Lex into his arms. 

“Few words, but lots of actions. Come on, let’s go home.” Clark launched himself gently off the rooftop and headed west, toward their penthouse. Lex allowed himself the luxury of letting his head fall against Clark’s shoulder as his partner’s strong arms cradled him, the rain and wind cleansing his body of the Joker’s touch. 

***  
Two days later

Lex sat in front of the fireplace in the living room of the apartment that he and Clark shared, partaking in a cup of ginger spice tea and the morning edition of the Daily Planet. He glanced up as Clark came in with a white cardboard box full of crullers and a cardboard carafe of coffee from the café across the street. 

“Hey.” Clark smiled widely and crossed the room to lean over and give Lex a long, tender kiss. “How are you feeling?” 

“Much improved, thanks to the fact that I heal quickly.” 

“Bruce said it was the only thing that saved you from dying sooner than you did,” Clark said as he set the box and carafe down on the table nearby. 

“Did he?” Lex closed the paper and folded it before setting it aside. The morning headline read, "Batman Spotted in Metropolis, Apprehends Joker: Criminal Menace Returned to Arkham Asylum."

“Yeah.” Clark crouched down by the chair and put a hand on Lex’s arm. “You know that everything Bruce did, he did to help us.” 

“Even though that meant drugging me, touching me without my consent, and allowing me to become bait so that he could recapture the Joker?” 

“Lex, if you’re going to blame anyone, blame me! I asked Bruce for his help!” 

“Actually, Clark, I have no one but myself to blame. I slipped up and allowed the Joker to discover that I was working for you. If anything had happened to you, it would have been my fault.” He folded his hands neatly into his lap. “Perhaps I should leave crime-busting up to you.” 

“You were trying to help!” 

 

“And I nearly got us both killed.” 

“Lex—”

“Pay me no mind. I suppose I’m still stinging from the humiliation of having to wear Lois Lane’s hand-me-downs.” 

“She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone.” 

“Only because you made her. Had you not, I would have been the morning headline.” 

Clark stroked Lex’s arm gently. “Lois has always kept our secret.” 

“I know.” Lex nodded, and then looked up at Clark. “Did you find me more attractive when I was Jo?” 

“What?” Clark blinked. “Lex! What kind of question is that?” 

“A valid one. I saw the way you looked at me, and I know that perhaps things would be easier if I were a woman. We wouldn’t have to hide what we are to people.” 

Clark rose and pulled Lex gently to his feet. 

“Do you honestly think that I came to Metropolis with you because I thought it would be easy? That I would bail on you because we’re not allowed to be a hundred percent honest with everyone we meet?” He took both of Lex’s hands. “The way I see it, we’re not hiding from anyone. It’s not about hiding. It’s about who deserves to know the truth.” 

Lex’s blue-grey eyes widened for a moment, and then he began to chuckle. “That’s inarguably logical, Clark. You’ve been under my influence too long.” 

“It could never be too long,” Clark murmured, and tugged Lex into a kiss. Lex sighed and slipped his arms around his lover’s solid form, basking in his heat, his scent. 

“I know I was difficult when I was . . . changed.” 

Clark nodded at the Lex-style apology. “You were. In fact, you were a real bitch a lot of the time.” 

“I would think you’d be used to that,” Lex grinned as he pressed himself up against Clark’s thigh. Clark grinned back. 

“Okay . . . more of a bitch than usual.” 

“I was unsure of what was going to happen. And I felt like I was trapped in the body of a stranger.” Lex looked away. “It was why I couldn’t let you touch me, Clark. That skin, that body? It wasn’t mine. It was . . .”

“Alien?” Clark asked quietly, and Lex shook his head as he rested his forehead against Clark’s broad chest. 

“No. You know that’s not it. I couldn’t let you touch me because whatever I’d become, the Joker had made. It was something perverted and twisted and dirty. I couldn’t let that become a part of our history. I had no choice but to push you away.” 

“Even if you had stayed that way, Lex . . . been Jo the rest of your life? I wouldn’t have let it destroy us. Because nothing can. Not hateful people, not the press, not the Joker.” He cupped Lex’s chin and tilted his head up to look him in the eyes. “Remember what you promised me all those years ago?” 

Lex nodded and smiled. “I remember. The stuff of legends.” 

“Yeah.” Clark grinned and kissed him. “Oh! I almost forgot, this was in our mailbox.” He handed Lex a white envelope with both their names on it. Lex opened it with a letter opened and unfolded the embossed card within. 

“What is it?” 

“It appears that we’ve been invited to Wayne Manor for dinner this evening.” 

“Really?” Clark looked over Lex’s shoulder at the invitation. Lex nodded and handed Clark the handwritten note that was tucked into the card. 

Clark: 

It occurred to me that you saw precious little of my home the last time you were here, and Lex saw even less of it. If you both accept my invitation, I can guarantee that the main course will not include any kind of medical procedures; instead, what I can promise is a fine bottle of Merlot and civil conversation. Dinner is promptly at eight; I hope to see you both. 

Best Regards, 

Bruce. 

“A complete lack of medical procedures and a good bottle of Merlot?” Clark smiled down at Lex, his big hands squeezing Lex’s shoulders and then tracing up and down the lean, toned back. “How can we possibly refuse?” 

Lex chuckled and slipped the invitation into the breast pocket of Clark’s shirt. 

“How indeed.” 

THE END


End file.
